Nothing Lasts
by Yeaomi
Summary: Alternate title: Dance F&# ers Dance. Comedian muses on the world and the new group of Heros during the first meeting of the Watchmen.


A/N: Movie or comic book, you gotta love the way the Comedian sees the world. This takes place during that first meeting of the Watchmen. Rated T for some language and implied violent themes. It's the Comedian, what else would you expect?

**Nothing Lasts**

Alternate title: **Dance Fuckers Dance**

He had always preferred his own way to do things. He certainly wasn't a follower and he certainly wasn't one that bought into all these little get together hug fests.

So why was he here now listening to that pathetic old timer try and 'save the world' with statistics and plans and charts?

Glancing around the room at all the new idealists, he recalled his own beginnings. How he had wanted to make a difference. To change the world. Though to be honest, he'd just liked the idea of getting to wear that ridiculous outfit and going out to beat the ever living fear into a few cocky idiots again.

It was funny, now that he thought of it. That's what most of them had wanted to do in the beginning. They were all just playing dress up. Doing something that you normally couldn't do. Being someone that wasn't that pathetic face you saw in the mirror.

And looking around now, he couldn't suppress a chuckle.

Here was a middle-aged man still trying to play Boy Scout leader with a bunch of kids that were obviously in a league of their own.

Someone needed to point out to the happy home maker that the world had changed. Criminals wouldn't run off after a stern talking to anymore.

The only end to things was in death. And even then, you'd be lucky if some ghost of a memory didn't come back to kick your ass later.

Then there was the second generations. Nite Owl, who clearly was aspiring to be just like the original peace maker. He seemed to at least understand that these days it took more than your fists and good intentions, but he was still too fool hardy and filled with ideals of the knights in white armor saving the damn day.

Dr. Manhattan… What was to be said about the blue freak? At least he understood how pointless it was. He was just a government dog of a different breed than his own. But that was all he was. A dog.

The Comedian's eyes lingered on the young Silk Spectre. Painful memories that simply refused to stay buried filled him with an empty bitterness. She was most likely here for her mother.

From the looks of things, she hadn't read that god damned book yet either. Or if she had, perhaps her mother had had a heart to heart. He couldn't let himself hope, but he couldn't simply dismiss it either. The past was the past and you either moved on or you let it haunt you forever.

Would this new Silk Spectre be able to cope with such a brutal line of work? He could only hope she wasn't as naive as her mother.

Then there was the self righteous piece of work. Ozymandias. Better than you on your best damn day. Of course he appeared to be very interested in Captain Metropolis. He'd heard the rumors. If he had his number right, his attention was probably less to do about the actual speeches and plans than anything else.

Surely this genius could see the flaws in the whole thing. How pointless this all was. So why was he sitting there like that and pretending to buy all this crap?

He was sure that in reality, it really wasn't that much of a mystery.

Then there was the small quiet one to the side. The one with enough common sense not to go parading around in his underwear and a showy cape. Rorschach. He'd heard this one was resourceful, intelligent, and had the potential to walk the fine line of violence and mercy. He had potential.

It was a pity that his morals got in the way really.

He decided that he'd had enough when the chart came out with its perfect lines and grafts and assignments. Crime didn't obey the rules. It didn't care about this god damned chart.

This was not the old days and all false pretenses of good intentions had gone up in smoke ages ago.

Watching the car drive away, he regretted everything.

He allowed himself a few seconds to wallow in self pity as he reflected back to that one time…

It would seem that even though you were done with the past, it didn't mean that it was done with you.

This was the life he'd chosen and he'd be damned before he regretted anything. If they couldn't let go of the past then it was their problem. Not his.

To hell with them all.

Turning, he watched the others leave. Heading off to their nice warm homes. He knew this life. What they had waiting ahead of them.

He could just picture it now. Walking into a small empty home, all their old memorabilia covered in a thin layer of dust. Dinner waiting for them in a fucking can.

The highlight of their day would most likely be to search the news papers for any clippings they could cut out and put in a scrap book no one would ever go through.

When you died, it all ended up the same anyways. No one would care about the carefully straightened pictures on the walls of all the places they'd been and all the people they'd met.

Everything that mattered would either be sold off or given away so some homeless bastard could parade around wearing your shoes.

He himself had a better home than most simply because he had chosen a different way to get his kicks. A more secure way that assured him he could still wear his mask without ending up in jail. At least this way, he had better things to collect dust than the others ever would.

This new group, they had a lot to live up to. They were better than the old heroes in many ways. They could cope. They would face more horrors than the old group.

Yet it would still end up the same. It always did. Nothing lasts. Nothing ever ends and nothing ever goes away for good.

In a few years, he wondered which of them would be clinging to old and better times, which would be dead, which would be insane, which would be cast out, and which would really see the light.

Sometimes it was just best to just watch the world burn.

And sometimes it was better to fan the flames.


End file.
